


Our Love Was Made For Movie Screens

by ghettoassenglishman



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arguing, Comfort, Films, Fluff, He's Just Not That Into You AU, I don't know why I wanted to do this but I need it, Love and Other drugs au, M/M, Please read
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:29:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3784900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoassenglishman/pseuds/ghettoassenglishman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I know that no matter where life takes us, together or apart, every time I lay eyes on the moon it will be yours, and in my heart I know you'll think the same."</p><p>Basically, one-shots of Ian and Mickey in my favourite film scenes. (So yeah, just a bunch of mini fics of the boys in a variety of Alternative universes)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Love And Other Drugs

**Author's Note:**

> \- "You meet thousands of people and none of them really touch you, and then you meet that one person and your life is changed forever." -
> 
> From this scene, which I fucking love - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X4kuzxY81vM
> 
> please comment and let me know what you think, or if you have any suggestions of film scenes I can write these boys into! One shall be up tomorrow.. which I think will be based off He's Just Not That Into You? keep tight

Ian's fingers are rapidly tapping against the steering wheel, his heart beating at a hundred miles per hour, he can't feel his toes, he can't feel anything. Moments ago he had been wondering where the hell it all went wrong and then he clicked onto the perfect answer; it didn't. Ian had just made an ass of himself trying to prove to Mickey that he could take care of him. Take care of his disease. And it all back-fired. But, the thing about Ian was he never gave up on the things that he wanted, and he wanted Mickey.

 

He pulls his car up in the middle of the parking lot, the bus he knows Mickey is on has its engine running just meters away. Mandy had called him, told him that Mickey was going off to some boot-camp rehab place to help with his Parkinsons, Ian had to tell him how he felt first. He couldn't just end it like this. He jumps out of his car, slamming the door shut with his rapid speed. The bus hasn't started yet, so he takes his chances. “Wait-” He waves his hands in the air, smacking against the door window of the bus. “Open the door!”

 

The doors open, whacking him straight in the side, winding him, but he still rushes forward and steps onto the bus. His eyes scan the various people sat in the seats, his eyes latch onto Mickey who sat, hunched in himself, his eyes boring into Ian like he could murder him in-front of the elders surrounding them. Ian doesn't care, Mickey couldn't murder him he needed to say this. He pushes past the seats, leading up to Mickey, apologizing to the people he banged into. The brunette is avoiding his eye contact, biting at the skin around his nails.

 

“I need you.” Ian blurts out, dipping his head a little to catch Mickey's eyes.

 

Mickey finally turns to him, hand still in his mouth. “Fuck off, Gallagher.” his voice isn't cold this time, its soft, its cracked and Ian hates how he was the reason for that.

 

Giving up wasn't on his list though, he lets out a little laugh. “I drove a long way to say that.” He nervously scans around him, all of the faces on the bus turned to him – even the bus driver seemed interested.

 

Mickey scoffs, his pale, thin face clearer now. “What, am I supposed to be fucking impressed or something?” He turns back to look out of the window, just hoping that Ian would step off the bus and leave him be. That's all he ever asked, just to be left.

 

Ian shrugs, his mind telling him that this might actually be it, this could be the end. But as usual he never went with his rational thought. “I don't know, yes.” He slaps his hand against the top of the chair, watching as Mickey flinched against the noise, he could see the nervous shake in his hands. “Look, Mick, please just get off the bus so we can talk for a second, just a second.”

 

Mickey eyes him like he's crazy, shaking his head. Ian doesn't miss the tearful glint in his eyes. “No, We're on a fucking schedule, you're too late.”His voice is harsher this time, the tone he had built up in the last five seconds. Ian hated to see Mickey fractured, especially when it was his doing.

 

“Yeah, just five minutes, please.” Ian pleads, because this was his last chance. He needed to tell Mickey how he felt, he needed to make up for being such a fucking dick. Ian turns to the people on the bus, smiling sweetly. “You guys don't mind if we take five minutes, do you?”

 

Mickey bites his lip, shaking his head ashamedly. A woman sat behind him taps his shoulder, grinning. “He's handsome.” She winks at Ian, mumbling something to what looked like her husband. Mickey turns and stops himself from flipping her off and just gives her a choked laugh.

 

Ian's still gasping for air, his heart begging for Mickey to just say yes. “Five minutes, that's it. Then I'll let you go.” Ian hoped that wasn't forever. He hoped that what he was about to say would change Mickey's mind. There was no way of getting rid of Mickey Milkovich, even if he had to.

 

Reluctantly, Mickey agrees, struggling his shaking limbs to get out of his seat. Ian nods, feeling his stomach drop to zero – he felt his words already clogging up – Ian waits outside of the bus, watching as Mickey stumbled from the bottom step of the vehicle. “What the fuck do you want, Gallagher?” Mickey asks, curling his hands into his jumper.

 

“I'm full of shit.” Ian states, knowing that it was true. He hurt Mickey, big time. “Okay,wait no. I'm knowingly full of shit.” He laughs again, feeling manic at this point. Mickey's staring at him with those blue glimmering eyes, that even though his skin had paled his eyes reminded the brightest.

 

Ian's words catch in his throat. “Because, I, uh, I, I have never cared about anything or anybody in my whole entire life, that wasn't my family.” He admits, his own eyes tearing up. Mickey nods, like he knows, he probably does.

 

“And the thing is, everybody kind of just accepted that. Like, “Oh it's just Ian.”” He raises his hands in the air dramatically, his heart warming at the sight of Mickey's lip tugging. “And then you.” He gasps out, he still didn't understand it yet.

 

Mickey wipes his eyes at the side of his arm, sniffing up briefly. Ian wants to step closer but he's not sure if Mickey wants that yet. He's not sure how to react, so he just carries on. “Jesus, you.” He waves his hands out, happily, his smile breaking through the cracked surface. “You.” He could almost breath it out, it was that delicate.

 

“You didn't see me in that way.” Ian shivers, he remembered how Mickey had calmed him down, how he helped him through his panic attack just a week prior. “I have never known anyone who actually believed that I was good enough-” Ian tries to stop the stream of tears, but the fled down his face like a racing track.

 

The older boys huffs out a sob, trying to twist his face away from Ian's words. The redhead steps closer, the white mist forming before him. “Until I met you.” He whispers, trying to hold it all together. “And than you even made me believe it too.”

 

At this point, Mickey can't help but feel the smile creep up, he felt proud that he actually made Ian see himself, see how much he deserved. Mickey hoped Ian saw that he deserved better than Mickey.

 

Obviously, Ian was always a obnoxious, persistent fucker who did what he wanted anyway. “So, unfortunately-”Ian is clear now, he knew what he had to say. “I need you, and you need me.” Because that's what it had always been about. Ian would look after Mickey when his Parkinsons got bad, and Mickey would look after Ian when his episodes got out of hand. That was just them.

 

Mickey finally speaks up, defensive. “No I don't.”

 

“Yes you do.”

 

The brunette shakes his head, one tear falling down his cheek. “No, I fucking don't.”

 

Ian laughs a little, “Yes you do, Mickey.”

 

The older boy runs a stressed hand through his hair, his fingers tangling in the strands through his fingerless gloves. “Stop it. Just fucking stop saying that.” His turns on the spot, letting out a shuddered breath. “Just fucking-”

 

Again, Ian remains unmoved. He would never give up on Mickey, not now. “You need someone to take care of you.” He had many plans of that being him, because he knew Mickey wanted him, needed him, too.

 

“No I don't.” Mickey snaps back, moving over to storm back to the bus when he feels a hand wrapped around his wrist tightly.

 

Ian pulls him closer, a weak smile playing on his lips. “Everybody does.” His words are like velvet and Mickey feels himself being drawn to him again, like always.

 

But, he hadn't forgotten everything. Mickey was ill, really ill, and he couldn't depend on Ian to look after him all the time, he couldn't take Ian's life away from him just to protect his own. His gasp shudders as he tries to get his words out fine and straight. “I'm going to need you more than you fucking need me.”

 

Of course, Ian already knows this, he nods. “I know, I fucking know. But that's okay.” He tries to bring Mickey against his chest, but he's pushed back almost instantly.

 

Mickey forcefully but weakly hits against Ian's chest, wishing that he could go back and beable to beat his ass up. “No it fucking not.” He yells, voice echoing through the parking lot. “It isn't fucking fair.” He grips at his hair, continuing to shuffle his feet as he tried to breathe. “I've got to go places, I've got to-”

 

In an instant, Ian is straight back in there. He tips Mickey's chin up gently with his left hand. “And we will go there, together.” He sees that shine in the blue eyes, that sense of hope. “I'll just have to carry you.”

 

And like always, Ian meant in ways more than one. He would carry Mickey till the end of the earth, it didn't change a thing about what disease they had, or how healthy they felt, it was about them and he needed to make that clear as fucking day.

 

Mickey debates it, licking a tear from the corner of his mouth, he feels his body getting smaller from his hunched back. “I can't ask you to do that.” He tries to push away the feeling of... something he could fucking name...happening in his chest, but it was too strong to face.

 

“You didn't.” Ian simply states, greeting Mickey with his trade-mark lob-sided smile that he missed so much.

 

Then Mickey crumbles, he feels his back give way and the weight of the world just felt too heavy to carry now. Ian rushes over, his hands gripping onto Mickey's upper arms, one of his hands scoops to the back of Mickey's neck drawing his forehead to his. “Hey, hey. It's alright.” He feels Mickey wanting to push off, but he keeps his grip firm.

 

There's a second where he hears the small, hitch of breath escaping Mickey's mouth and he can't help but spill out everything he needed to say. “Let's just say, in some alternative universe there's a couple like us.” he hears Mickey's soft chuckle, and he wants to hear it forever. “Yeah, only he's healthy and the other is perfect.”

 

“Yeah, fucking right.” He hears Mickey mumbles against him

 

Ian nods. “And their world is about...I don't know, how much money they're gonna spend of vacation, or who's in a bad mood that day-” He loosens his grip, thumb stroking against the skin of Mickey's neck as the older boy relaxed and a grin replaced his sadness.

 

The redhead carries on, smiling through his tears that he threatened to spill. “Or whether they feel guilty about having a cleaning lady, you know. You know what, Mickey?” He questions, his other hand placing itself against Mickey's cheek.

 

“What, Gallagher.” Mickey breaks through, his hands shaking against Ian's side.

 

“I don't want to be those people.” Ian confesses genuinely. He felt Mickey's heart beat against his own hands, like his own did the day he had told Mickey he loved him, that way – he knew it was real. That this was real. “I want us.” he points between his and Mickey's chest.

 

Then he brings their lips together, gently. “You.” He whispers, feeling Mickey's cold, chapped lips brush against his own. “This.”

 

Mickey pulls him into an instant hug, his arms wrapping themselves inside of Ian's coat. The redhead nearly retreats in shock but grabs onto his lifeline anyway. Ian knew you didn't always get what you wanted, one thing he did know – is that the most unexpected is the most worth it.


	2. He's Just Not That Into You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- "Or maybe the happy ending is this, knowing after all the unreturned phone calls, broken-hearts, through the blunders and misread signals, through all the pain and embarrassment you never gave up hope. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two!   
> From this ---- love it ---- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ThU7Vn2Bqc4  
> Next one shall be from - No Strings Attached - so keep tight!

It wasn't the same, but he wasn't there to stop the whisky flavoured kiss, he wasn't there to tell you no or to threaten to rip the guys balls off. He just wasn't. Ian just had to live with that. He and Richard, the old friend of Mickey's – which he was still surprised actually existed – walked towards his apartment door. They stop just as Ian pulls out his key, “It was nice meeting you.” He sweetly tells the man before him, the man that actually might be good for him.

 

Richard shrugs, his smile glimmering under the lights of the corridor. “Thankyou so much, for, yeah, a lovely evening.” He scratches the back of his neck, opening his arms, Ian scoffs and pulls the other man into a hug. For some reason he knew this one wouldn't work out. Ian didn't need a guy who was good for him, he needed someone who was bad for him, who would rip his heart to sheds and chuck it in the trash – and somehow he hoped that guy would pick it back up again.

 

“You too.” He kisses the side of his cheek, letting the man go. He looks at Richard, knowing that this guy could be the one to sort things out, he could be the one to hold him at night and tell him its all better – but when their eyes locked, he only wished that those green eyes were blue. “Goodnight.” He smiles, nodding shortly to himself as he opened his door.

 

Richard waves him off, walking down the hall as Ian shut the door behind him. He leans against the closed hinges, letting the gust of breath trapped in his lungs finally escape. “Fuck.” He gasps out, pulling at the sleeves of his coat to shed it from his body. Ian walks over to the coffee table, chucking his keys against the wooden surface, just as he's ready to switch the light on he hears a hardened knock against the door.

 

Most likely Richard wanting a night cap.

 

“You forget something?” Ian yells, smirking as he opened the door. Well, it definitely wasn't Richard. In fact, it was the only person that was bad for him. It was the man that tore his heart away and kept it to himself and ran, it was the man that Ian still couldn't stop thinking about. It was the guy who Ian had forgiven, despite how much it hurt.”Mick-”

 

“Yeah, I did.” Mickey coughs out, holding a pen before him. It's the same pen that Ian had given him to give back to Connor, the same pen that led to their relationship in the first place. It was a stupid promotional pen that Ian wished he kept to himself. (when he really didn't wish that)

 

Ian stiffens up, crossing his arms against his chest, he leans against the door frame and tilts his chin up a little. “Really, what did you forget?” Mickey really did have the cheek to just turn up at his apartment, after a whole week without a word.

 

Mickey glances across Ian's face, like he was memorizing each line, each curve, each freckle. “This.” He whispers, again waving the pen in-front of Ian's eyes. Ian had seen that Mickey had used it, held it, did whatever he wanted to do with it, but he knew now because the writing on the side was a little faded.

 

The redhead snatches it from him, tilting his stern face. “So, you came all the way here, at eleven o'clock at night, to bring me back a fucking promotional pen?” He twists it in his fingers, trying not to cry out with the warmth wrapped around the edges. Mickey looks jittery, more shaky than he had ever before. Ian almost laughs out loud; it was like Mickey was turning into him.

 

Shyly, Mickey nods, bashfully trying to hide his face. “Yeah, I did, alright.” He scrubs a hand over his face, trying to work out the right words that would tell Ian everything. “I thought I should come up with some really shit excuse to get over here.” He nervously cups the back of his own neck. “That's how it's done, isn't it?”

Ian instantly knows that Mickey's referring to his own actions. It still doesn't budge the doubts bashing around in his mind. Why was Mickey here? Why did he even need an excuse to just knock on his door? He leans his head against the white frame. “Sometimes.” Ian had learnt from Mickey that making lame excuses, and trying to hard, didn't always work.

 

As Ian turns to go back inside, Mickey takes a grip to his arm. “Look, just fucking listen. I can't stop thinking about you-” He nearly smiles when Ian's eyes flick over to him. “I- It's a problem. I drive by your place, I call and fucking hang up, I don't know man, I'm turning into-”

 

“Me.” Ian finishes the sentence for him, noticing all the things he had avoided doing for the past week tumbling out of Mickey's mouth. It was alien, Mickey wouldn't say those things, so why was he?

 

Mickey nods, chewing at his bottom lip. “Yeah.” He huffs out, the choke in his voice like a glitch in the system.

 

And Ian can't take his eyes off him, he can't help but wonder what had brought this on. He had tried so hard, so fucking hard, to try get Mickey, to try let him in on how he was feeling. That all got chucked back in his face, and now he was meant to just believe him? “A wise person once told me that if someone wants to be somebody, they will make it happen. No matter what.”

 

Mickey manoeuvres himself closer. “That's true.” He agrees, remembering his own words from the first time he had met Ian. From the time Ian had desperately called him about some rich guy going off to the fucking Bahamas’s.

 

Ian's lip shivers as he his jaw lets out a crack. He had tried to forget this memory. “But when I was hurling my body onto yours,you didn't seem to want to make that happen.” His hands shake at his sides, all of his emotions blurring out. Mickey hadn't wanted him, he didn't kiss back, he shoved and he ran and he made Ian feel like shit just for caring. How did that show that Mickey wanted him?

 

The older boy scans the area around them, swaying against his toes. With a shaky voice, he manages to finally speak. “Okay, Gallagher, hear me out.” He steps closer to Ian, their chests nearly touching, breaths tickling against skin. “Here's the thing about that. You were right. I've gotten so fucking used to keeping myself a safe distance from all these people, like some fucking power, that I didn't know what it felt like when I actually fell-”

 

His words catch as Ian's eyes lock to his, a rush flowing through his body as he notices the way Ian bit the inside of his cheek. “That I didn't know when I would fall...for one of them.” He feels like he's having a panic attack, like his chest was about to explode. “I didn't know.”

 

Ian lets out a small gasp, one only audible to Mickey for how close they were. With the little force he had left, he shoves Mickey backwards a little. “Look, Mick, I just went out with your friend Richard-”

 

Mickey curses under his breath, jealously striking him where it hurt. “Yeah.” He bites out, ready to flip some tables, punch some walls, maybe even smash the window just beside them.

 

The redhead fiddles with his fingers, looking away from the hold of Mickey's gaze. “I mean, he might be just exactly what I need.” He can feel the steamy glaze over his eyes, he tries to flicker it away. “No drama, he calls, he does what he says-”

 

Then Mickey steps forward again, sick and tired of hearing about how good Richard was and he wasn't. He knew that already. “I can do that too-”

 

“But you didn't.” Ian snaps back, pointing out the obvious. He swats the pen in the air again, his cheeks burning with every ounce to keep out the tears. “And that same wise person that me that I'm the rule, that I have to stop thinking that every guy will fucking change. That I have to stop thinking that-”

 

Mickey can't take it any longer. He can't take Ian's rambling on bullshit lies he fed to him, he wants Ian all to himself, and his words never worked, his actions always spoke louder than his words. That's just how it worked. He grabs Ian by the collar, catching his lips with his own roughly, he licks at the seam of his lips and sighs as Ian opens up to him.

 

Bracing his hands against the others chest, Ian gasps out for air, finally realising, “I'm the exception.” His grin is wider than the ocean, brighter than the sun, and Mickey was blinded, he couldn't see through all the beauty stood before him.

 

Mickey's hand is still palming his cheek, his thumb stroking by the seam of his hair. “You're my exception.” And God, he never thought he'd be that corny, but once his lips touched Ian's and he felt his body being pushed closer to his, it was worth it.


	3. No Strings Attached

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \-- "We don't get to pick who we fall in love with, and it doesn't happen like it should."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three - really, I just writing these to get my mind to do something. I've been feeling no motivation for anything at the moment and writing is the only thing that will stop me from lying in bed all day doing nothing. so yeah. 
> 
> This is based from -- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KoabUMmRutk
> 
> Next one shall be from....dun dun dun.... The Proposal!

Mickey leaves Mandy and her fuck-wit boyfriend in the hospital, kissing his nephew on top of the head. He hadn't had chance to leave the room until now, and he desperately needed a smoke. He reaches outside and bypasses the numerous people all having the same idea as him, he walks from the main entrance and towards the road. Then he feels his back pocket vibrate. He looks at the ID, its Ian, he doesn't want to speak to him like this. It fucking hurt and hearing Ian's voice would just make it worse. 

 

But he can't help himself. He answers, not bothering to speak. Ian's rushed voice echoes over the line. “Mickey!” And for some reason Mickey actually feels guilty, he actually feels like Ian should have the chance to speak – but it didn't hurt less. 

 

Mickey pushes the phone, hard against his ear. “Hey fucker.” Great greeting. “You can't call me and tell me that you fucking miss me.” He spits, Ian's confession hours before echoing in his head. “I don't want that conversation on the phone.” He walks down the walk-way towards the road, the night-air hitting him like a brick as he takes a drag from his smoke. 

 

“You can't fucking text me, or email me, don't even think of fucking writing on my wall.” He nearly laughs, because he didn't even have a facebook account, so why was he even saying that. He ends up at the road, looking out towards the trees. “If you really miss me, you need to grow some fucking balls and get in your car, and see me.”

 

Mickey jumps at the close voice from his left. “I'm here.” Its Ian. Shit, its Ian. Mickey turns in shock, the phone slowly dropping from his ear as he takes Ian in. The redhead is stood, shaking a little, a suit wrapped around his body scruffily. 

 

“How did you know that-” Mickey points behind him, because he sure hadn't told Ian about Mandy going into labour. 

 

Ian steps forward, face hitting the light as he climbed onto the side-walk. “'Lana called me, she was pretty pissed that Mandy's waters broke all over her couch.” He laughs, shrugging shly. “So, I came here.” He ducks his head as his jaw clicks, he's not sure if Mickey actually wants to see him right now. 

 

Mickey's about to speak before he sees powder smeared across Ian's cheek. “You've got fucking- Is that coke?” He points out, gesturing to Ian that his face was covered in stuff that looked a lot like coke. 

 

“Oh, shit. Ah, no its just some cakes I-” He cuts himself off, wiping his mouth and cheek against the back of his hand. The cakes he had bought post seeing Mickey with some other guy, thinking that his time was up because he wasn't quick enough to whisk Mickey away. Those cakes were still in his car from when Fiona had told him to buy them to help with the gut-wrenching heart ache, while he listened to the mixtape that Mickey had put together about sucking dick. 

 

“How's Mands?” Ian asks quietly, genuinely worried about his bestfriend. 

 

Mickey waves his hands, sighing. “She's okay. Just popped out a kid but she's still fucking whining.” 

 

Ian chuckles and Mickey swears it the most beautiful sound. “Good.” Ian smiles, shaking his head towards himself. “I know I can't just fucking call you.” He admits, swatting his hands against sides in exhaustion. If this didn't work then he had nothing, he would just give up. 

 

“No you fucking can't.” Mickey bites, showing finality. 

 

Ian nods, sadly. “No.” His voice is quiet, a little shaky. Nothing like it was the night he pushed Mickey away entirely. “I hurt you. I'm sorry.” He adds, as he looks up towards Mickey who seems struck in the words. He had hurt Mickey – massively – he had shoved what Mickey felt right back in his face and he would never forgive himself for that. 

 

Mickey scrubs a hand down his face, not wanting to crack again. The redhead tries to near but stops himself, face nearly scrunching up. “I don't know why I wasted so much time pretending, that-that I didn't care-” Ian breathes out, fiddling with his fingers. 

 

“I guess, well I guess I just didn't want to feel like this.” Ian openly admits, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, one falling against the skin of his cheek. “It hurts.” And it did, it really fucking hurt. Every day it hurt. It hurt to know that someone loved you no matter what and it hurt when they didn't. Love had always been presented as this hopeful, uplifting presence but that was bullshit. It fucking hurt. 

 

The older boy goes to speak, protest even, but Ian's already talking before him. “But I-I love you. I'm totally and completely in love with you and I don't give a shit if you think its too late, I'm telling you anyway.” Ian's mouth goes off like a machine gun, all of his emotions pouring out. 

 

Mickey's staring at him, both wide eyed and confused. Ian doesn't know what to do because he might be too late, Mickey might have already moved on. But he's happy that told him. That's all he needed, because Mickey needed to know that all of this wasn't just for nothing. Ian steps forward, desperately. “Will you please say something?” 

 

“Wait.” Mickey puts a firm hand out, stopping the redhead. This was it. This was where it all ended, was it? “You should know, that if you come any fucking closer, I ain't letting you go.” That crack in his voice, he really fucking hates, but he can't help it. 

 

Ian takes a minute to catch on, his mind suddenly flickering to the explanation. Mickey wanted him. Mickey actually wanted him there and was willing to never let him go. He runs into the smaller boys arms, hands gripping to the side of his face to bring their lips together. God, he missed that taste. 

 

Mickey curls his arms around Ian's waist, the redhead pulling away from the kiss and resting his forehead against his. Ian smiles, that tooth-eating grin that he loved so much. “You wanna do with me to that stupid thing?” 

 

The older boy lets out a chuckle, the memory of their first meeting – the fraternity house back at college, in their fucking boxers – and kisses the tip of Ian's nose, leaning up against his feet. “Your sisters wedding thing?” He asks, earning a nod from Ian. “How long does it take to get there?” 

 

Ian taps his chin, thinking. “Just a couple of hours.” With the glint in his eyes, he smirks, letting Mickey's arm loop around his neck. “What you wanna do?” Ian asks, already having a couple of ideas in his head already. All things he wanted to do with Mickey forever. 

 

Mickey leans in close to Ian's ear, his lips brushing against the skin of his lobe. “Something crazy.” 

 

Ian knew that meant stay with me – he knew because staying with Mickey was crazy, but fuck – wasn't it worth it.


	4. The Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \--Don't let him out. The eagles will snatch him. ---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually piss at this film, its so great. 
> 
> From this scene --- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JJsFtwsuCx8

 

“....I need you to take them fucking boxes and load them up, okay.”Mickey orders the scrounging employees around the wide-open office, shoving boxes into hands, papers into bags. It was a matter of time that he would get kicked out of the country, and even though he and Ian had a plan, he couldn't just use somebody to stop the legal immigration kicking his ass. Off to Ukraine it was. 

 

“Mr Milkovich-” One man says, Mickey's sure his name is Giles or Jerome – something like that – he doesn't turn, nor does he care if something was going down in the office, he just wanted this day over with. “Yes, what he fuck do you-” He turns to where Giles hand is pointing too. “You've got to be fucking kidding me.” 

 

In the door-way stood Ian, still stuck in his white shirt and suit pants, his hair all scruffy. “Hey.” He breathes out, ignoring the glaring eyes from around his work colleagues, who are most-likely very confused at this point to why Ian was rushing in like this, saying hello to the boss that he most-apparently hated. 

 

“Ian-” Mickey gulps. Ian looks worn down, and Mickey feels guilty for that, he feels guilty for just leaving Ian like he did. The way he did. Then he notices that Ian still hadn't caught his breath, all sweaty against the collar of his shirt. “Why are you fucking panting?” 

 

Rolling his eyes, Ian sweeps the hair out of his eyes. Sternly, he answers. “Because I've been running.” He steps forward and nods to a couple of people, his eyes never leaving Mickey's. This was the moment he won his man back, this was the moment that Mickey would know how Ian truly felt because during their little adventure they never had time. 

 

Mickey's eyes scan nervously, he crosses his arms against his chest. “Really, from New York?” 

 

“I need to talk to you.” Ian pleads, his hands opening wide for something to grab on. Most-likely Mickey. He wanted to hold him and never let go, he just needed the chance too. 

 

The older boy shifts awkwardly, glaring towards Giles who had been breathing down his neck. Gulping back what he thought was steamy-mist clouding over his eyes, he retreats. “Yeah, well, I don't have time to fucking talk, Gallagher. I need to catch a 545 plane to Ukraine.” He presses his lips into a thin line and turns before he has to see the deflated look on Ian's face. “I need the boxes to go out today, I want to make sure everything is fucking packed or I'll-” 

 

“Mickey! Stop fucking talking!” Ian suddenly bursts through with a yell, his hands flapping up with frustration. 

 

Mickey opens and closes his mouth, ready to throw a punch but he didn't need another thing to be pulled up on in terms of the government. “Alright, Jesus.” 

 

Ian walks right up to him, his breathing calming down a little, but not much. He lifts one finger, “It will only take a second, I promise.” He hadn't planned it to be within a second, but he could atleast try. The workers around him looked shocked, gasping at the fact that Ian was actually standing up for himself. 

 

The older boy gives in, waving his hands around frustratedly. “Fine. Fucking what?” He sends a couple of glares around him, then turns his attention to Ian, nodding for the redhead to elaborate. 

 

Gesturing with his hands, Ian starts his little confession. Well, he wouldn't class it as little. “Three days ago I loathed you.” He tries not to smirk when he sees Mickey rolling his eyes, because three days ago it was clear Ian hated him. “I used to dream about you getting hit by a cab or being poisoned.” He's being blunt, but without the truth this wouldn't work. Oh lord, he wanted it to work. 

 

Mickey snorts, nodding sarcastically. “Oh, well that’s fucking nice.” 

 

Ian cuts him off with a firm hand, shaking his head mockingly. “Yeah, I told you to stop fucking talking-” The rest of the office “oo” and Ian's comment, some clasping hands over their mouths. No one had dared speak to Mickey like that, but Ian did. “Then we had our little, shitty adventure trip to New York and things started to change.” 

 

The older boy scoffs, Ian was always one to underestimate things. Things didn't just change. Everything fucking changed. 

 

“Things changed when we kissed.” Ian gasps out, waiting for Mickey to bolt, or worse – punch him straight in the face. But through the whispering workers, Mickey stood still trying hard not to look Ian straight in the eyes, because he knew it was true. “And when you told me about you tattoos.” 

 

Mickey consciously looks down towards his hands, remembering the night he had told Ian everything his body took years to keep in. The night he realised that Gallagher wasn't just a work-slave or a dick. He was more than that. 

 

Ian nods, sweetly but pointedly. “Even when you checked me out when we were naked.” He shrugs smugly to the questioning workers, nodding towards the ones who disbelieved it happen. Even Mickey. 

 

The brunette bashfully waves if off. “Well, I didn't fucking see anything, yeah.”

 

“Yeah, you did.” Ian challenges, stepping forward towards the desk Mickey had been shielding himself behind. “But I really didn't realise any of this until I was standing alone-” Ian gulps, remembering the sheer fear when he noticed Mickey had left. “In a barn, husband-less.” 

 

Mickey sniffs up, trying to build himself back up. He felt guilty for jilting on Ian, but he also felt guilty into pushing Ian into his own problems and literally using him to stay in the country. Those three days he had seen, felt, heard how passionate Ian was, how sweet he was, how he looked after his family; and he knew Ian could do better. 

 

Ian bites his words. “Now you can imagine my disappointment, but it something suddenly dawned on me-” Ian doesn't want his words to shake, or break even, he just had to breathe. “That the man I fucking love is about to get kicked out of the country.” That scared it the most. More than Mickey running away, more than never being able to hold Mickey; it was Mickey being thrown out like he didn't mean jack-shit. Because Mickey meant the world. 

 

He doesn't bend down, he doesn't pull out a ring. He didn't need to. “So, Mickey fucking Milkovich, marry me.” He gives Mickey those eyes, the serious but homely balls of light. “Because I'd like to date you.” He smiles genuinely, the workers cheering from behind him. 

 

Mickey is speechless, stuck for words, his mouth hangs open and his answer clogged in the back of his throat. There's tears in his eyes, that he tries to push back as he shakes his head. “Trust me, You don't really want to be with me.” 

 

“Yes I do.” Ian stands firmly with his choice. 

 

Why didn't Ian just listen? “See, the thing is Gallagher, there's a fucking reason why I've been alone all this time.” Mickey starts, ready to kick Ian's ass for opening declaring this. “I'm comfortable that way and I think it would be a lot easier if we just forgot everything that fucking happened, and I just left.” Of course, he didn't want to leave, but Ian deserved more. He really did. 

 

Then Ian stops his thoughts, he always did. “You're right.” Ian nods, moving towards Mickey so they were barely breaths apart. “That would be easier.” 

 

Mickey knows by the tone of his voice that he's being sarcastic, that he's telling Mickey that yes – it was easier, but he wasn't willing to take the easy option. He was willing to take Mickey. For the first time, Mickey openly admits it. “I'm scared.” he gasps, barely a whisper. 

 

“Me too.” Ian breathes before he pulls Mickey into a kiss, his mouth finally touching when he had been yearning for. It was like the room was empty, leaving just them, the cheers behind them just distant sounds that they had to deal with. Mickey eases up and lets Ian's tongue in, moaning at the taste of Ian's mouth against his. 

 

Mickey pulls away, grinning shyly. “Aren't you supposed to get down on your knee or some shit?” 

 

They never changed. Even if they liked each other now. 

 

Ian shakes his head, hand resting at the nape of Mickey's neck. “I'm going to take that as a yes, other than your stubborn fucking attitude.” 

 

“Oh, okay then.” Mickey rolls his eyes, leaning up on his tip-toes to kiss Ian all over again. 


End file.
